Dazed And Confused
by The Absynth Fairy
Summary: After A Bittersweet Memoir, Lupin struggles to deal with recent tragedies and recollects the occurences of the past. Defuinate slash and angst warning. PG for adult language. Rating may go up. It depends on how I'm feeling.
1. The Beginning

Author's Note----- Ah! Another wonderful fic! In a big way this fic is connected to SECRET LONGING OF LUPIN (Which wasn't so good) and A Bittersweet Memoir. This is only the first chapter. The title of this fic is based on a song by Led Zeppelin. I don't take credit for the song or the band. Most of the writing in this fic was inspired by The Cure. I wanna know if you want more before I update this, and if I don't get any reviews on this one, the story will cease to continue and I'll quit the project altogether. I don't want to do that, but I'd like to know who reads my work or not. Plus I'm bored. So I really need to know if you want more. Thankees!  
  
Disclaimer----- Blah, blah, blah. These characters do not belong to me. They are the product of Miss J.K. Rowling and shall remain exactly what they are. This was not written for profit. So don't sue those with no cash.  
  
DAZED AND CONFUSED  
  
The world is constantly changing. There are often things that happen that you don't really expect. Sometimes things happen so swiftly and abruptly that their passing often means an odd sort of feeling; the indescribable yet perfectly articulate impression that you've somehow withstood hurricanes and monsoons of the greatest caliber, but with nothing to show for it. Nothing but battle scars. I have such a scar. But the said scar is not visible in the slightest, but incomparably deep, sadly permanent. And these hurricanes, these monsoons that rush passed you and take everything you have but leave you with not but a deep, crippling gash on your conscience also give you a momentary feeling of numbness, a blissful state of confusion. I am dazed and ...confused.  
  
Can you understand what I am talking about?  
  
I can hardly expect that you do. Let me please give you some backing. I have a story to tell. Doubtless, you've heard this many a time. But I'm truly honest. Hear me out. I want to talk. I want you to listen. I need your comfort. I need your sympathy. Lend me your ear. I need your attention. Most of all I need your affection... Sirius.  
  
Can you hear me out there? Can you taste my tears? Can you hear me when I say I need you? Do you know just how alone I am?  
  
This is pointless.  
  
I'm just rambling, aren't I? I'm not talking to Sirius. He can't hear me. I can't love him anymore.  
  
I can't go on like this. The rambling must stop. I'll make this coherent. I'll make this understandable and hopefully neat. I want you to hear me like you've never heard me before. The story must be told. The tale must begin.  
  
I don't suppose I can even begin to depict to you, the eager listener, whoever you may be, God, Sirius, stranger, whoever, the occurrences that have taken place in my lifetime, in my thirty plus years of worldly experience.  
  
Well.... Perhaps I can. I might have before.  
  
...  
  
Yes, yes I have before. I've recounted my wonderful affair with Sirius before. But it seems as though I'm in a world of confusion, now. Everything's a daze. I can't concentrate on one particular thing for too long, because these thoughts and regrets of my past actions are eating away at my sanity.  
  
Straight out of an Edgar Allen Poe book it seems. I feel so Byronic. Such a horrible feeling. I want to fall asleep and never wake up.  
  
Hmmm. I don't know what to think anymore. This has happened so swiftly that it possibly can't be real, it can't! Such terrible, terrible things have happened. A series of unfortunate events happening each one after the other. It seems as though the ground has crumbled beneath my feet and I'm falling down into the abyss of confusion and utter peril that is my life now.  
  
My dear Sirius... our dear Sirius.... No, no, this isn't happening, this isn't REAL!  
  
And to think we never spoke to each other– really, truly spoke to each other after that one night where our most distant and discrete secrets flooded forth from our tongues, into each other through our brushing lips. That night where we touched upon those inner labyrinths of emotion that were secreted away for shame of lost pride and masculinity. But it could have gone much farther. It could have gone much deeper than it already had been. Just thinking how much more of a deeper understanding we could have had for each other, how much MORE we could have explored things if we hadn't let our pride get in the way makes me so... so... helpless and scared and angry. All at the same time.  
  
But maybe I was a bloody fool to believe that Sirius would remember that night, that one night we spent together, only so many moments. I was a fool to think that such things could be carried between us so casually.  
  
I was a fool to not approach him about it, for fear of rejection.  
  
And now he's gone.  
  
He's in a place where he might as well be dead.  
  
He's being kept in a virtual Hell for something he possibly could NOT have done! And James... oh God, James... and Lilly, and their innocent little boy, Sirius' very Godson, James' pride and joy, Harry... and Peter, poor Peter! Why did it have to be them?! I would have gladly given my life to know that they were all safe. I would have handed myself over to the Dark Lord to secure their safety.  
  
But they are all gone. And there is nothing I can do about it. Not now. Not ever.  
  
Poor Harry... perhaps never to see a single shred of the Wizarding world courtesy of that awful aunt and uncle of his. I can't concentrate at all! This rush of immediate guilt is threatening to crush me beneath it massive consuming weight.  
  
I feel so alone.  
  
I feel like breaking down into tears.  
  
I've done that so many times it seems a regular duty.  
  
Wake up in the morning. Look out at the gray sky with fatigued eyes. Force some cold, sour tea down my throat. Stare at the wall for hours. Breakdown in tears, usually sobbing myself to sleep.  
  
Every other day something new would happen. Owls arrived from old friends and co-workers seeking to console me, or visits from various members of The Order in person. Usual conversations consisted of:  
  
"Hello, Remus. How are you feeling?"  
  
"Just fine..."  
  
"Dumbledore would have come himself, you know, but..."  
  
"I understand." Dumbledore was always occupied with something. It didn't actually matter what it was, it was just always mandatory that he attend to it.  
  
Sometimes they actually broke down and talked to me about Sirius, Peter, and the Potters. They'd usually simper things like:  
  
"I know you were so close to them. I'm so sorry that you're the only one left..."  
  
Or...  
  
"James and Lilly were wonderful people... and that Sirius one clever and dedicated man... Merlin have mercy."  
  
Or...  
  
"I know, we all miss the Potters. We never knew that it would happen to them. We weren't prepared. You must be in a dreadful state of mind." I was.... Heavy hands were then always placed upon my shoulder to console me. And it always ended the same. I would heave a little sigh. "I can't change anything. The best I can do is move on."  
  
But after I say it I always have this unsettling feeling. As if something weren't at rest. As if this weren't over.  
  
I still bring myself to think about Sirius. I think about how to change things. How I could have changed things between Sirius and I. We could have shared a life together. We could have been lovers. But after that one night, I'm afraid, our pride invariably got in the way. And so we never continued on with that sort of relationship. And now it's too late.  
  
I took comfort in other people during that period. I was desperate for affection. Sirius could not supply that. We couldn't supply that to each other mainly because Sirius and I had never spoken to each other about it after that night. I never tried to approach him about it, he never approached me. The entire ordeal was left to the fates and nothing more. Either that or it was placed high upon a shelf, never to be bothered again, to sit and collect dust.  
  
So there was silence. Silence as we never communicated in the way we so wished, silence as I slowly sunk inside. There was no conflict, however. It was all silence and nothing more, during that sixth year at Hogwarts, merely one year after that one night we never spoke of. The sixth year at Hogwarts. The year I thought I was in love with Severus Snape.  
  
Even now I still think he's quite handsome, wherever he may be. His skin was never that sallow, nor his hair ever really greasy, or his nose quite as hooked as my comrades would comment daily.  
  
For a Slytherin he was quite a stunner in his younger years. That I am not ashamed of admitting. Hell, he was beautiful.  
  
Well, to me at least. But I think I always had a fondness of the pallid and pasty look, myself. He did often look like he'd popped mysteriously out of an old horror novel, complete with vampires and mad scientists.  
  
Now that I think of it, the distinctness of that pale and pallid look only belonged to Severus at the time. He was thin, with towering height, though you couldn't really define his exact height due to his habitual tendency to slouch while walking, and sparkling onyx eyes. I'll never quite get over those onyx eyes, not as long as I live, because they DEFINED Severus down to the last detail. It wasn't his full mouth, or those high, definable cheekbones or that long stringy black hair falling limply into his face (though they are quite pleasant features) that really described him. It was his eyes. You know, people say that to look into someone's eyes is to see their soul. If that were true than Severus would be, doubtless, baron of feeling. You could look into his eyes and see nothing, yet still carry hope that a few tattered shreds of him were left. You could see those broken pieces of him swimming and glinting in the darkness of those onyx pupils, little glittering slivers of a past gone wrong, little sparkling shards of truth, something that wasn't hidden, at last.  
  
This was all mainly because Severus, to me, was an absolute mystery. From the very first time I saw those glittering slivers in his eyes I knew that he was something I had to figure out. I think I may have made a game of it, getting inside his head. Because Severus was just so damned intriguing. Maybe I wanted a different explanation for the person I came to know as Snivellus. Maybe I wanted an excuse to ignore Sirius for a while. As they say, love is very fickle nonsense once you realize your infatuation was built on hatred, or lust, or revenge, or merely bitterness.  
  
I seem to be rambling again. I mustn't do that. I have more self-control than that. I know I do. Recent events have nothing to do with this habit of rambling. They are no excuse. My sincerest apologies to you, the unidentified listener.  
  
Yes, I was talking about Severus, wasn't I? An absolute mystery if there ever was one, that boy. For a while I was captivated and obsessed. I wanted to know everything about him.  
  
So began the Study Of Severus Snape.  
  
I began to stalk him in the halls whenever I gained the chance. I noticed that he was pale, bird-boned perhaps and moved in such a way as to suggest the alert, self-possessed twitchiness of a spider. His manner was that of something quiet and reserved. Barely a word escaped his pale lips, and when he did choose to speak it was always something quiet, unless he was angry or annoyed. But I didn't mind. Understand that person who was ridiculed as much as Severus must have suffered bitterly, and for that turned bitter himself. It's a common thing.  
  
Severus was never really a bold person. He seldom made eye contact with any other human being around him, eyes usually cast downward, observing the ground quite intently. It was so much like me that I could hardly laugh. The floor can be a fascinating thing if you stare at it long enough. Cobblestone is something you shouldn't take for granted, really.  
  
But when he did look up it was often a shy, unsure look. He reminded me of a caged animal at times. It made him all the more mysterious.  
  
I bet this is an obvious shock to you, listener, if you do know who Severus was. But that was put aside for the moment. After all, Severus and I had a few select similarities.  
  
We were both outcasts.  
  
Perhaps in different ways and categories, but we were still outcasts. So I immediately took a liking to him. In a way I had to; in a way he was like me. Do unto others as you do unto yourself. It wouldn't be fair if I didn't.  
  
Usually I had double Potions, or Care Of Magical Creatures with Severus, so I never missed an opportunity to attempt a conversation with him (bold move, Moony.) or take sidelong glances at him from a distance. At rare moments he would catch my eye and quickly look away as if I'd slapped him or threatened him, or he may have glared, black eyes flashing as if to say "Get away from me...". Other times he seemed not to notice. But I think I should know better. Severus always knew if someone was watching him. Always.  
  
There were only a few occasions in which I was near him in one of the many Hogwarts corridors when he coincidentally dropped his books or a quill and I would tentatively, nervously assist him. Again, that glare, as if I'd done something horrible, as if this weren't my place (though now that I look back on it, it truly did appear as though I were stalking him, which I was, but it wasn't supposed to be that evident.), but there was something more to it. Those glittering slivers of Truth swimming in the onyx pools of his eyes whispered to me something of amazement, something of disbelief and the voice steadily grew in volume as it moved to the slight crease between his ebony brows. I was caught in the moment, as I always was, and I think he was to. But then reality would set in, and we would both realize that we were in a hall surrounded by people, and he would narrow his eyes apprehensively, whip his hair away from his eyes and skulk off in the other direction.  
  
Encounters like this were scarce, though, in their curtness. At first this was all innocent. At first it was sort of a game. At first it was a kind- hearted (or so, I thought) attempt to get closer to an individual; whom I had something in common with. But, like a psycho mystery novel or a teenage self-help book (I have a tiny habit of collecting muggle books... little obsession of mine since I was eleven years old), it turned into quite an obsession. Little by little, day by day, no matter how gallantly I fought it (which wasn't very gallantly, to say the least), I began to observe how commonly attractive he really was.  
  
I watched him in the Potions classroom while he measured his ingredients skillfully and poured them slowly into his cauldron. His hands moved in a very precise way. Exact, but graceful at the same time, small and white, with fine, delicate fingers and long clean nails. There was something strangely feminine about his hands, exceedingly exquisite for a boy's hands. They looked a bit pampered, though I could plainly tell that he cared little to nothing about his hands.  
  
A lot of us knew about his obsession. It was very plain, very obvious, his fondness of the Dark Arts. It scared many off. But it didn't affect me. Severus had the power, but not the whim to use it, much less harness the idea of having power. You could plainly tell that Severus couldn't hurt a fly.  
  
I would watch him on lazy Saturday afternoons in the spacious Hogwarts lawn near the edge of the lake. He often settled near or under one particularly large oak tree, busy brooding, or absorbed in a book. His dark eyes sometimes scanned the area, his eyes locking on no one until he saw me.  
  
Our eyes would lock on each other for quite a while. I must have looked strange to him. Quiet boy with amber eyes and hair of the same tint sitting amongst a crowd of laughing friends, just staring at him. Not smiling. Not laughing. Just staring at him in awe. I've mentioned before how appealing he was. So I don't think that I should give you a reason as to why I had been staring at him. Maybe I shouldn't have said that. It was clear from the beginning. Well...  
  
He distracted me from everything and everyone else. From the moment I saw his eyes I was quite truly reserved.  
  
Does this sound like a love story? I'm sorry to say that it start out that way, it truly did, but love can be a very fickle thing. I mean, you kiss someone and suddenly you want to walk to down the isle with them. In that department, I am inclined to say, I am quite a fool.  
  
It was lust at first sight, nothing more than an illusion of love from the very beginning. Because I was hurt. Because I was damaged. Because I wanted Sirius to love me but ultimately knew that he couldn't possibly harbor such an emotion for his best friend. For me. For Moony. I was torn.  
  
And here is where my story, dear listener, really, truly, honestly, genuinely begins. This is where I must jump headfirst into the act of dictating this tale to you.  
  
The Series Of Unfortunate Events is a chronicle by Lemony Snicket  
(A.K.A Daniel Handler). I've been a recent fan, but I wanted to mention  
the title in this fic. I do not own the books, though.  
  
Thank you,  
The Absynth Fairy  
  
P.S.: Next chapter... if you want it... is coming soon. 


	2. The Detention

**A/N:** Yay! I actually got some reviews! To tell you all the truth I really didn't expect any, so I'm thrilled that people are actually reading my stuff. Also, I have some honorable mentions because I'm so happy that I made it to the second chapter that I wanna thank some people for encouraging me to continue at the end of this chapter. My writing was further inspired by The Cure and Evanescence (not a big fan of Evanescence, but I happened to have the CD on me, so I decided to pop it in and Lo and Behold, it inspired me! I'm still not a fan, though) So, this I proclaim the second chapter! Just so ChichiX() won't hit me with a stick....  
  
**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the characters (Except for Professor Erminia Lysistrata... but she was based on a particular character that I do not own) in this story. They are the property of a certain Miss J.K. Rowling. This was not written for profit. If it were I'd be rolling in it.

* * *

**THE DETENTION  
**  
"_However far away, I will always love you. However long I stay, I will always love you_."  
-"Love Song"  
The Cure  
  
My first approach was during a detention Severus and I had had the pleasure of sharing together. It was the only detention I'd had that year. And it was Peter's fault to boot. No, no, wait. That's just my bitterness talking.  
  
It occurred during a rather tedious Potions class that the Slytherins and Gryffindors just happened to share together. Grueling double Potions. I don't suppose our Potions teacher is quite as well known now. I do know, however, that her name was Erminia Lysistrata, and I do know for a fact that she, at the time, was one of Hogwarts' Most hated Teachers (Referring to The Marauders' Handbook, Chapter 23, Page 706, paragraph 5, sentence 4). Although, I did harbor a sort of respect for our dear Erminia, as I do so many of my elders and authority figures. Sirius does (or did) warn me about how my respect would cause the downfall Of Remus someday. Perhaps it already has.  
  
As the old saying goes, I suppose, there is always the possible existence of a silver lining on each cloud.  
  
Despite our stony Professor Lysistrata, it was a congregation of Slytherins and Gryffindors. We were brewing up a potion for memory loss. I paired up with Peter. Well, you know, since Sirius and James were always together. How could such a thing as double Potions class keep them apart? Forgive me if I sound bitter. That is not my usual state of mind.  
  
Anyhow, Peter and I were working on our Memory Sharpening potion. It was glowing an unusual shade of yellow, as opposed to the correct tint of orange, which was the exact color and hue as James and Sirius' potion, I scornfully examined.  
  
Turns out it was partly Peter's fault for not adding enough powdered wormwood mixed with chopped aconite and partly my fault for not watching as carefully as I should have. You can easily guess what I was doing. It's not that hard. If you've already given up, I was too busy staring at Severus from across the room.  
  
Severus was paired with a rather sickly looking Slytherin boy with long blonde hair. His name was Luscious Malfoy, who was not at all talented in the method of potion making, I could easily observe, because he'd added what looked to be too much essence of sage, which turned their project a rather putrid looking shade of olive green.  
  
Near the end of class our dear Professor Lysistrata marched stiffly around the room, looking down her crooked nose at the contents of every cauldron. My palms began to sweat as she drew near Peter's project and mine.  
  
"I see that you've added less powdered wormwood and aconite than directed, Pettigrew." She threw an ice-cold glare at Peter. "Lupin," her glare was a little less severe. "Honestly, Lupin, I had much higher expectations. This is an effortless potion. That's a week's detention for the both of you. And I DO hope that our next chat will be somewhat more pleasant." The blood drained away from my face as she walked to James and Sirius' cauldron and looked down at their potion skeptically.  
  
"Well done," She said softly, her jaw beginning to go rigid. "Well done, Black... Potter. You receive full marks for today's lesson."  
  
I glanced over at Sirius and James as they exchanged looks of pity with Peter and I. Sirius suddenly turned to me and placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. His eyes were wide and sympathetic. Damn that dog. Sorry, mate. Lewd Lysistrata's got you this time."  
  
I smiled weakly. "No bother. The time had to come."  
  
"Don't be like that, Moony. You sound like a grave digger."  
  
His hand was lifted from my shoulder. Then and only then did I know I missed the contact of his hand and against any part of my body. Then and only then did I know I missed that night more than I thought I'd missed it. Then and only then... well... I think you know well enough what I mean. At that moment I felt lonelier than I ever did in my life. Even as a werewolf, I'd never felt that alone, that isolated as I did at that exact moment, when the bodily contact that flowed through his hand to my shoulder was broken gently but abruptly. I felt cheated. I felt incomplete.  
  
He turned and he smiled. There was something peculiar about it. My senses picked up something other than pity. I sensed guilt as well. Confusion.  
  
Just as I was about to question the peculiarity of Sirius' grin, there came another burst of conversation from the other side of the room.  
  
"Snape! I honestly did NOT expect something of this nature from a student such as yourself! You should know what mistakes you have made. You receive zero marks for today's lesson. The both of you... that's a week's worth of detention for the both of you." She walked away swiftly, mumbling under her breath.  
  
Severus said not a word, however his partner was quite insulted, opening his mouth in protest but quickly shutting it before he could even begin to speak.  
  
So maybe I wasn't alone.  
  
Supper in the Great Hall later that evening was a bit dismal and upsetting. Everyday things that you ignore become... well... very IRRITATING when you're in a certain... mood.  
  
I ate close to nothing as I listened to Sirius and James chatter over some Quidditch player in Hufflepuff. The noise grew to an alarming rate, a buzzing in my ears, a rattle in my head. I couldn't take it.  
  
I stood up.  
  
James, Sirius, and Peter looked up at me with wide, questioning eyes. "Hey, Moony, where you going so early?" He held his fork in mid lift to his mouth. Sirius looked up over James' head, a small frown forming between his dark brows. My heart shrunk and that lonely feeling returned, uttering curses into my ear. Alone, Moony, you'll always be alone. I silently screamed. I wanted out.  
  
I opened my mouth. "I...." Loneliness echoing in my mind, bouncing off the walls of my skull. I struggled to speak. "I'm not hungry," I mumbled, "I'm going to the common room... get some sleep before I head out to detention."  
  
James lifted his forkful of stew to his mouth. "S'fine with me."  
  
Sirius, however was still looking up at me, that crease between his brows growing all the deeper, his eyes grew darker. But he did not rise to protest as I swiftly walked through the large double doors and into the halls of Hogwarts.  
  
As I walked through the corridors leading to the location of Gryffindor Tower, my luck changed.  
  
For soon I found myself walking alongside Severus Snape. His eyes were downcast, blocked by an oily curtain of charcoal hair, clutching his book bag gingerly to his chest as if someone were about to snatch it away from him. I understood exactly how he felt.  
  
Or, at least.... I thought I did.  
  
I heard the click of his heels against the flagstones and my heart raced.  
  
I thought quickly. And as I thought, I accidentally collided with him at the base of the hall.  
  
The sound of his books clattering to the floor was unsettling.  
  
"I'm so sorry..." I stammered as I dropped down to my knees on the cold, hard floor to collect them for him. I saw one title, which read:  
  
"Merlinda Edgewater's Guide To: Domestic Dragons"  
  
When I handed his bag back to him, he snatched it away from me and clutched it to his small chest possessively. Me glared at me through his curtain of black hair.  
  
"I-I'm sorry," I said.  
  
"No." He said abruptly. He shook his hair out of his face with one toss of his head. "No, I'm sorry. I had no right to be rude to you. His hair crept back into his eyes and he shook it back impatiently once more. "Erm.... Thank you, Lupin." He said lowly.  
  
My heart leapt at the mention of my name. He'd never called me by my name before. I was stunned.  
  
The corner of his mouth twitched into a half smile as he walked off past another corner.

* * *

**I would like to thank**:

**Merlinda** (For the review she left on Bittersweet Memoir, which inspired me to finish the Dazed And Confused fic I was working on a while back and post the first chapter... I would have mentioned you in chapter one, but I had no time)

**The Littlest Dragon** (The first reviewer for Dazed and confused)

**Marilyn, My Bitterness** (Second reviewer and fellow Cure fan! Woo!) And I would like to thank my other reviewers if I've missed any.  
  
**P.S**.- I've scattered the names of all of my reviewers throughout this story. Go ahead and read it over again to spot it if you reviewed!


	3. The Trophy Room

**A/N**: Sorry about the wait. This chapter's going to be short because I'm going to be in Texas for a week in a trailer with no technology whatsoever. NOT EVEN A PHONE. This chapter leaves off pretty quickly, but it'll start back up next week, I promise. Thanks to those of you who were patient with me.  
  
**Disclaimer**: Don't own Harry Potter, just borrowing. I'll bring them back when I'm done, alright, J.K?  
  
**WARNING, THIS FIC CONTAINS SLASH. THOSE OF YOU WHO ARE HOMOPHOBIC AND ARE EASILY OFFENDED BY HOMOSEXUALITY CAN RESPECTFULLY SOD OFF AND READ SOME G- RATED MARY-SUE FIC, OR SOMETHING.  
**  
_Thanks to my reviewers, most of all. This chapter wouldn't be up if not for them and their friendly encouragement._

* * *

**THE TROPHY ROOM  
**  
I rushed to the Common Room with a light heart that evening.  
  
I ran up the stares and knelt down to snatch my book bag from the side of my bed and plotted my course to Professor Lysistrata's classroom in the dungeons.  
  
As soon as I rapped my knuckles on the heavy ironbound wooden door, I heard heavy footfalls from the corridor just South of me.  
  
There stood the caretaker, a wide, sadistic grin spread across his jaunt, unshaven face.  
  
"Uhm...." I said, but before I could fabricate a question, the caretaker silenced me.  
  
"Professor Lysistrata sent me here to take care of your detention." He grunted. "First we wait for the other students."  
  
Slowly, over a period of time, one by one, the students miserably collected near the large ironbound door. There were only four of us.  
  
The caretaker's grin slowly grew wider. "Are we all here?" His yellow eyes scanned us all apprehensively. Peter squirmed quite visibly beside me.  
  
The caretaker led us to the entrance of what must have been the Hogwarts trophy room less then five minutes later. He took from his belt a large key ring, on which was strung a various amount of keys. We all waited patiently as he sorted through them and finally retrieved from the myriad of clanking metal a large brass key engraved with small, ornate patterns. It gleamed in the light of the torches that hung in brightly painted sconces along the walls.  
  
As he unlocked the door, he motioned for Severus and I to step forward (my insides gave a small jolt).  
  
"There's a bucket of polish and a few dirty rags in there," He jerked his head towards the doorway, "I expect those trophies to blind me when I return." His grin made me want to spit on him.  
  
We were ushered forcibly inside and the door was shut abruptly behind us with a loud bang. From beyond that door we heard the caretaker say, "The rest of you follow me. There are some bed pans in the Hospital Wing that are in need of some scrubbing." I heard him chortle loudly, blatantly, and I silently pitied Peter for what obscene duties he was about to perform, and not willingly, at that.  
  
I heard a small sigh behind me and I turned around to spy a very tall and emaciated Severus silently rolling the sleeves of his robes up to his elbows. He seemed not to notice me at all, carrying on with his menial tasks of readying himself for the polishing. I followed suit and stepped over to snatch up a rag from the bucket of polish I spied in the corner  
  
I gave a wearied sigh. "I guess we'd better get to work, then." I sadly examined the dizzying amount of oversized trophies and plaques about the room.  
  
Severus said nothing as he tossed back his raven hair and carelessly grabbed the bucket of polish to carry it to its final destination, which was a large brass trophy, awarded to Hogwarts during the year of 1877, or so said the engraving.  
  
I watched as he gracefully knelt upon the flagstones and began to shine the brass surface delicately.  
  
There was a lump in my throat and I swallowed hastily. "So..." I cut off. He threw a look of pure venom at me as he continued his work on the trophy, silencing me almost completely. But I was bold and continued. "I suppose we're polishing the same trophy, then?" Silence followed as he slowly turned his head to face me, shook the hair out of his eyes, and looked up at me with raised eyebrows, scooting over just a few inches to the right as if to say, "Of course..."  
  
Timidly, I knelt down beside him and dipped my rag into the bucket. I looked down at the dampened cloth in my hands and saw the oily bronze polish dripping onto my fingers and onto the floor in a moment of catatonic stillness.  
  
And then I realized that he was looking down at the polish on my hands, too. I slowly looked up and our eyes met. We stared for a moment until he suddenly looked away and reached inside his robes. I wondered what he was doing until he pulled from his inside pocket a white handkerchief embroidered with a small intricate S in the right corner. I gasped as he snatched the soiled rag from my hand to replace it with that of his stark white hanky. Gratefully I cleaned the polish from my hands until I noticed that he was wringing my cloth into the polish bucket. I stared fixedly as his spidery hands moved fluidly about until he stopped, looked up at me, and placed my cloth back in my hands.  
  
His hand remained on mine, still. He looked straight into my eyes. "Here," He said, "Try using portions of your rag and not the whole thing. That polish is Hell to get off your hands."

* * *

Thankyou for your patience, the next installment will be posted next week, when I get back from Texas.

-The Absynth Fairy


	4. How Could I Resist?

**A/N**: MOOOOOOOWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!! I'm back from the dead (Dallas, Texas) and have come to write MORE!!!!!! This story has been harder to put together than I thought, because I originally started this story on paper on Spring Break 2004 as a response to A Bittersweet Memoir and Secret Longings Of Lupin (By the way, you may want to check these out before moving on so you'll know the story, even if I am a bit ashamed at the writing in Secret Longings of Lupin) and then procrastinated on writing it, but after a few months I spent a night of reading slash in this site and got the idea to write more during the second week of summer and turned out nine pages of wonderful gushy stuff for this fic. Then I got the idea to copy it down on computer and post it to Fan-Fiction .net. Well, I thought, since it was already written and such that it would, hence, be easy to copy and post. Well, I thought wrong. I ended up rewriting it while copying it and that made the process of posting much slower, and this unexpected stay in Texas hasn't helped me, either. So I will inform you that it may take quite some time for me to get my chapters up, what with all of the difficulty of rewriting and rendezvous to Dallas, but I will try my best to get it up as fast as I can. Also, I may be starting a couple of new fics, also, so don't get angry with me if a new bit of slash pops up now and then, just know that it's an idea that popped into my head that I couldn't ignore, so bear with me.  
  
**Disclaimer**: Don't really own the characters in this fic, just borrowing. They are property of J.K. Rowling and shall stay that way, I promise.  
  
**WARNING: THIS IS SLASH. IF YOU DON'T LIKE THE IDEA OF REMUS OR SIRIUS OR SNAPE OR ALL THREE GETTIN' DOWN AND DIRTY WITH EACHOTHER THAN YOU CAN GO SOMEWHERE ELSE AND READ SOMETHING THAT DOESN'T INVOLVE SIRIUS/ REMUS/ SNAPE/ ANY MALE DOING THE NASTY. I'M NOT FORCING YOU TO READ THIS.  
**  
_With love, to all the people who encouraged me to write more. If it weren't for you, this wouldn't be happening.  
_

* * *

**Chapter #4: How Could I Resist?** (P.S.: _This is the title of a song by a band called Heart. I do not own it_.)  
  
Once again, I glanced back down at his hands, perfect, and ivory, and gleaming against the dull grayness of the flagstones.  
  
He retrieved his own rag from the rim of the bucket and resumed his task again, delicately and exactly as before. I started polishing as well, but halfheartedly.  
  
Not much time passed before I was stopped again, and I felt those long, tapering fingers constrict themselves around my wrist, delicately, but firmly, and I looked up at him, back into those onyx eyes.  
  
"Sorry," He said flatly, "For stopping you, I mean, but... well, you're not polishing correctly." I raised my eyebrows, but he brushed it off. "What I mean is, you're doing it the wrong way. The caretaker gets upset if you do it the wrong way, makes you polish it all over again because it leaves streaks. Here," He said, covering my hand with his and he guided it along with my rag in a careful circling motion. Shivers ran up and down my arm, and there was a strange prickling at the back of my neck. His other hand was pressed gently about my shoulder.  
  
"Look," he said, suddenly, and he pulled my hand away so I could observe the shiny surface. I was too distracted to notice the difference. My head swam. I felt his thumb lightly graze the flesh of my knuckles and I sucked in my breath quietly.  
  
"You have soft hands."  
  
That was not what I was going to say at all.  
  
Not at all.  
  
He looked at me.  
  
And then he looked away.  
  
His hair was in his face and I didn't know why until a thick, dark strand slipped out of his face and revealed a rosy blush on his cheek. The press of his fingers on my shoulder slowly, steadily grew weaker.  
  
I looked away, eyes dropped to the ground, and silently cursed myself. "I'm.... um... sorry...' I said sadly, not sure of what to do at this point.  
  
With a stab of guilt I felt the warmth and weight of his hand lifted from mine. I heard his voice, softly but surely heard it. "No, no, I'm fine... just fine."  
  
The rest of the detention continued in bruising silence until the caretaker burst into the room, holding the large ring of keys in his rough hands.  
  
"You're free to go until tomorrow evening," He said smugly, I wanted to hex him. But I decided against it.  
  
Snape and I bounded out of the room, both walking as far way as we could, no words exchanged.  
  
I found myself at the portrait of the lady in the pink dress in no time (I refrain from calling her the Fat Lady, still. I find it quite rude and insulting. She was very nice to me.) and mumbled the password. The portrait swung open abruptly, and I climbed into the Common Room, bound for the stairway.  
  
Halfway up the stairway, I heard a voice call softly, "Remus..."  
  
I turned to find Sirius sitting at the table, elbows propped up on the shiny wood surface. This made me happy. I wondered why I even bothered with Severus at all.  
  
"Oh... hello, Sirius" I said, slowly turning around and stepping off the staircase. I walked to the table, shifted the weight of my bag off my shoulder and onto the floor, and sat in a chair across from Sirius. His chin was now resting on his folded hands, lovely hazel eyes staring up at me, amazingly large, doglike as they always were.  
  
"Well...?" He said expectantly.  
  
"Well, what?" I asked, leaning forward, eyebrows raised.  
  
"The detention... how did it go? What did you have to do?"  
  
I shrugged lightly. "Polished trophies. Nothing difficult, really."  
  
"Oh, well, what about Pete—."  
  
Peter stumbled through the portrait hole, out of breath and off balance.  
  
Sirius raised his head happily and laced his fingers together, his manner all together pleasant, which made me suspicious and uncomfortable. I squirmed lightly in my chair.  
  
"Well, good evening, Peter..." he said sweetly, a grin spreading across his face. That grin was so familiar I wanted to spit on Sirius at that moment. But I held back from it. Self-control has always been my greatest strength. The results couldn't be that bad.  
  
I held my breath as Peter collapsed onto the sofa, panting softly, wiping the sweat away from his brow. His cheeks were coloured with a bright shade of red, in deep contrast to the soft mop of blond hair and cream-colored complexion Wormtail normally maintained.  
  
Sirius' disgusting grin widened. "What atrocities did Petey partake in this evening, hmm?"  
  
"Scru-scrubbed... bedpans..." Peter breathed, almost inaudibly. I felt a sharp, cold stab of pity and anger.  
  
Sirius gave a loud chuckle and his hazel eyes darted to the space  
between the wall and the sofa behind Peter. My eyes narrowed. I could  
feel my face burning slightly. "James, did you hear that?' Sirius said  
suddenly.  
  
James popped up quite suddenly in the space to which Sirius was indicating, which caused Peter to jump, with a high-pitched cry and topple to the floor with a thud.  
  
"So that's what Lewd Lysistrata had you do, eh?" James asked, now leaning on the arm of the couch with his ankles crossed casually as Wormtail recovered himself from the carpet and flopped back on the couch, his hand at his flushed forehead.  
  
And he was laughing.  
  
He was laughing with them.  
  
On normal circumstances that wouldn't have bothered me, because Peter, bless his heart, was very good-natured and well tempered about everything. Come Hell or high water, Peter would find a silver lining. Even when we laughed at him. Even when he was the butt of everyone's jokes. Even when we ridiculed him for our own selfish enjoyment. He just stood there and laughed with us, acted like he thought nothing of it, like it was a normal occurrence, and it became so. Steadily I caught on at how pathetic he truly was and for that I pitied him in the worst ways. But at the same time I'd always admired Peter. He was loyal, and he had more self-control than I could ever pretend to possess. Yet I never understood how one person could handle so much abuse. I didn't understand why Peter admired us so, even if we treated him badly.  
  
I slowly stood up from my chair, shifted my book bag over my shoulder, and headed for the staircase without a sound.  
  
James looked up. "Where are you going, Moony?" His dark brows knitted in confusion.  
  
I continued walking. "Sod off."  
  
I could feel James' bespectacled eyes burning holes through the back of my skull as I continued walking. Then, suddenly, came James' voice, indignant, insulted, hateful. "Well no wonder polishing bits of metal can be _sooo_ exhausting, when you spend the bulk of the hour snogging Snivellus!"  
  
I froze. Yet I didn't turn. My head rotated not an inch. Slowly I continued to walk up the staircase. Each footstep felt like a heavy weight trying to keep me down. I battled it every step. Soon I felt the soft, cool fabric of the duvet on my four-poster beneath me and I closed my eyes without warning or hesitation.  
  
I slept not a wink before I realized that someone was in the room with me. I didn't remember hearing anyone follow me. But I knew for sure that someone was there. They'd thrown back the curtains and they sat on the edge of my bed.  
  
I lifted my cheek from the comfort of my pillow and looked up.  
  
Sirius.  
  
He was sitting there, dark hair falling elegantly into his eyes, hands folded delicately in his lap. I rolled over onto my back, staring up at the canopy of my bed to avoid his eyes. "What do you need, ... Sirius?" I said flatly.  
  
I heard a sigh. "I'm... I'm sorry about James."  
  
No use in bringing up Peter.  
  
I closed my eyes, felt them burn against my lids. "Sirius, it's not your fault that James is being a git and you know it."  
  
"Well, it might as well be if I let him talk to you like that—."  
  
"I know what you're about to say, so come off it, Sirius, I'm fine, really, I am."  
  
He sighed again. "I... I was just concerned."  
  
He left just as soundlessly as he came.  
  
Please allow me to interrupt my narrative for a moment. Lingering on my past makes me lonely. Lonelier than I've ever really been before. I've been alone for a matter of months, now. But maybe I want to be alone. But I'm scared, so utterly scared af being alone!  
Afraid of what I want, afraid of what I need, afraid of what will come in the future. But perhaps I may not need it. Perhaps I think I need it. I need affection. I need passion, I need a warm hand on my own, a soft pair of lips caressing my cheek. I know now and only now that I can't live without love. Once you've tasted it, you can't get enough. I'm afraid, I don't know how to live without love.

* * *

WOOOOOO! That felt good! Hopefully things will improve for Remmy in the next chapter. You'll just have to see...  
  
It's been business doing pleasure with you, -The Absynth Fairy 


	5. April Fools

**A/N**: Ahhh, happy to be here! The writing process has become a little easier. Probably since I just got of copy of Rufus Wainwright's 'Poses'. Most of the writing, or should I say re-writing on this chapter and perhaps the chapters to follow was inspired by this album. Oh, and by the way, the fic that I did on the song Hallelujah has a few changes that I need to make. The version of the song that I heard, that inspired that particular fic was done by Rufus Wainwright rather than Jeff Buckley. Just a happy notification. Also, the title of this fic is based on a Rufus Wainwright song entitled "April Fools".  
  
**Disclaimer**: Not mine. J.K. Rowling's. But she's kind enough to share with everyone. Love you, J.K.!  
  
**WARNING: THIS FIC CONTAINS SLASH, WHICH IS SEXUAL TENSION/ ACTIVITY/ FEELINGS BETWEEN TWO HOMOSEXUAL MEN. IF THE DON'T LIKE IT, THEN SOD OFF. IF YOU'D BOTHERED TO READ THE SUMMARY, THERE WAS CLEARLY A SLASH WARNING. SO IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT AND FLAME ME BECAUSE OF IT... WELL, LET'S JUST SAY YOU HAVE A LOT OF TIME ON YOUR HANDS AND I HONESTLY QUESTION YOUR INTELLIGENCE.  
**  
_Dedicated with love, to the people who helped make this happen. Rufus Wainwright is the greatest. 'Nuff said.  
_  
Chapter #5: **April Fools**

* * *

The day after was almost exactly the same. The only thing that kept me rising in the morning was my detention with Severus.  
  
I tried not to venture too far into James' bad side. After all, James was a dear friend. And the way I'd been acting the latter evening really must have offended him. And I didn't want to waste precious energy on little arguments about how much of a prick I'm being.  
  
So I stayed with the three no matter how much the banter of the Great Hall annoyed me. I stayed with them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I laughed with them as they talked merrily.  
  
Sirius seemed content. He no longer frowned at me, or stared up at me with those large hazel eyes.  
  
But he did call upon me before I set off for detention.  
  
"Remus," He said, gently placing his hand on my shoulder. I felt myself flush. "Don't get hurt." He smiled. I felt my heart melt. However, the gesture was friendly.  
  
But I couldn't help but dwell on the fact that he seemed to care about me, even if it appeared to be a little bit.  
  
The trophy room was much dimmer than I recalled as Severus and I walked through that heavy ironbound door and set to work almost immediately.  
  
At odd intervals I felt as if he were watching me with those liquid black eyes. My face burned.  
  
I felt the odd need to be closer, to get closer to him, but the moment felt way too awkward...  
  
The session went by in almost total silence until I realized Severus' eyes were on me, burning through my skull, into my mind, all knowing and all seeing and I turned around slowly to meet his onyx gaze.  
  
But as soon as my eyes fell upon him he immediately turned away to focus on his ministrations on another large plaque in the corner.  
  
"What do you need?" I blurted. I almost shut up before another part of me willed me to drop my cloth to the floor and crawl over to him. "It's not in my nature to confront... but you've been... well... staring at me a lot lately and I've been wondering—."  
  
He kissed me.  
  
I was talking and looking at the ground and I didn't realize he was crawling towards me and ready to pounce.  
  
He pressed me gently against the glistening flagstones and kissed me. All only in a few seconds.  
  
I was amazed when his lips drew away from mine, breathless and staring into dark pools of desire above me.  
  
"That was..." Words couldn't describe it. I felt his weight lifted from me, saw him turn his head in guilt.  
  
I shot up and placed my hand harshly on his shoulder. "Sorry," Came his voice from behind a curtain of black hair, head hung low. He tried to jerk away from me, but I boldly grabbed a lock of fine dark hair and tugged so his face was twisted toward mine. His beetle eyes brightened at the sight of the smile on my face.  
  
My heart raced happily, anticipating the next moment—  
  
"So you like me...?" I asked sheepishly, fingering that long lock of silk between my fingers, waiting for his next reaction.  
  
I saw that bright pink tinge on his pale, hollow cheeks and I thought, yes, he'll say yes, I absolutely know it.  
  
"I... I suppose I do, then..." Came his soft reply and I tugged that lock of hair wrapped around my fingers again so I could see his eyes.  
  
I leaned closer, so our faces were only a few inches apart. I felt like such a rebel saying this:  
  
"Kiss me again."  
  
Our waiting lips merely brushed before we heard distant footsteps echoing from behind that heavy door and we sprung apart, shocked, invaded, confused. There was only a second to slow our heartbeats and catch our breath before the door flew open and the caretaker stepped in, ugly smile firmly in place.  
  
"You're done for the evening, boys," He grunted, and he ushered us out into the corridor.  
  
I smiled weakly at Severus as we parted our ways, and I could have sworn he smiled back.  
  
My heart was a flutter as I sauntered into the Common Room that night, mind filled with the happiest of thoughts and the loveliest memory of the friction of his lips on mine and that fleeting moment when our hearts raced in perfect unison.  
  
I practically skipped up the stairway to the dormitories.  
  
As I jumped into my bed and proceeded to pull the draperies closed, I heard Sirius stir in the bed beside mine. Anxiously, I peeked through the small gap in my curtains to see if he was awake and saw two hazel eyes peering at out of a mask of calm contentment.  
  
"You still up, Sirius?"  
  
"Yeah... how was detention?"  
  
"Not too bad, I suppose. Boring as Hell, but not agonizing." I suppressed a smile.  
  
"Should've heard Wormtail when he came in. He was traumatized. Caretaker was merciless." Sirius gave a bark of a laugh.  
  
I yawned loudly. "Sirius, I'm a little bit tiered."  
  
"Get some sleep, then, your transformation's coming up in a few days."

I sat up quite suddenly. "Oh, shit!" I said, bringing my hand up to my forehead. "Forgot about that."  
  
Sirius raised an eyebrow. "You forgot? Rem, you're really slipping. Usually you never forget when the full moon is going to be."  
  
"I know... I've just been distracted."  
  
"Honestly, Rem, this detention's getting to you."  
  
"No it isn't."  
  
"Yes it is."  
  
"No it isn't."  
  
"Yes it is."  
  
"No, it is— just shut up, Padfoot."  
  
"Not only forgetful, but short on temper. Really, Remus, don't let that little monthly problem get to you."  
  
"I'm not listening to you, Sirius."  
  
"If you're not listening to me, then why did you reply?"  
  
"Please, DO shut UP, Padfoot."  
  
"Brushing me off already, Rem! Honestly, I'm crushed! I don't think I'll ever love again, you've bruised me, so—"  
  
He laughed as a pillow that I'd hurled at him hit his head softly. "Violent, also, and did I hear you curse?" He said, brandishing the pillow at me. "Honestly, Remus _James_ Lupin! You keep that language up and you'll find a bar of soap shoved down your throat!"  
  
I gave in and laughed.  
  
"Please SHUT UP, the both of you!" Came James' voice from across the room.  
  
Sirius and I shared a grin before pulling our curtains tightly closed and falling asleep.

* * *

_ARRRRRGHHHH! They keep writing themselves! I had a plot, but it may be destroyed, because Remus is falling back in love with Sirius. He's supposed to be directing his attention to Snape-a-roo. Ahhh, I'll try to get things straightened out. _

_-The Absynth Fairy _


End file.
